You Better Thank Your Lucky Stars, Agent Ward
by Lil'MissGoodyTwoShoes
Summary: When Coulson asks Skye to tend to Ward's wounds, she is reluctant. However, against her better judgment, she seeks out Jemma, determined to not only treat Ward, but give him a piece of her mind. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of SHIELD.
1. You Don't Have a Heart, Do You?

"An open wound is an injury involving external or internal break in body tissue, usually involving the skin. There are five types of open wounds, which are classified depending on their cause: abrasion, incision, laceration, puncture, and avulsion."

Skye sighed, idly tapping at the worn keys on the laptop in front of her; this was the third time Simmons had told her how to dress an open wound and Skye was none the better. Not only was her patience running short, but her temper was starting to get the better of her.

...

A couple of hours ago, the remaining members of the team had landed in a secure SHIELD facility in hopes of rebuilding the ruined agency. Coulson had set to work, calling out orders.

"Simmons: I need you to watch Fitz's vitals carefully and report any fluctuations."

"Right away, sir," she answered striding out the door.

"Skye: I need you to treat Ward's wounds. Heaven forbid he die of an infection."

"And May, report to my office."

"Yes, sir," the agent replied, turning on her heel.

Skye gaped at the retreating form of her Commanding Officer, flabbergasted. He wanted _her_ to treat_ Ward's_ injuries!? She huffed in annoyance, but went to find Jemma, determined to follow her orders.

...

So, here she was listening to the bio-chemist repeat herself, _again._

"Simmons..." she murmured.

"The most feared complication of an open wound is the threat of infection. Such epidemics include lockjaw, cellulitis, necrotizing subcutaneous infection, and gangrene."

"Simmons..." Skye repeated, louder this time.

"To prevent the onset of infection, the wounds must be flushed with an anti-septic immediately. Afterwards, Triple Antibiotic Ointment has to be applied and fresh gauze pressed on top-"

"Simmons!"

"Yes?" she answered, startled from her rant.

"And where might I find such supplies to treat such injuries?" Skye asked, pronouncing each word with a British twang.

"Right, of course. Follow me."

Simmons darted off, Skye hot on her heels.

"Bloody awful accent, I might add..." the Brit muttered, glancing at Skye.

Brightening, Simmons guided the hacker into a cramped hall, gesturing to the rows of packaging lining the interior.

"Here you will find everything you will need. Ring me if you need anything else," she added, before leaving Skye alone in the small room.

Gathering gauze pads, ointment, and anti-septic into her arms, Skye stashed the supplies in a nearby tote, dashing back out through the door.

...

Ward started as they door to the Interrogation Room clicked open. He adopted a defensive stance, pulling at the handcuffs plated securely along his wrists.

"Don't flatter yourself, Agent Ward, it's just me," Skye scolded him, her voice cold.

He swallowed, his throat tight.

"Commander Coulson has ordered me to treat your wounds, because the _very_ last thing we would want is our prisoner dying of infection."

"Personally, I would rather you die of some unknown disease, a stab wound, or even a punctured lung...I don't know, something that inflicts a lot of pain," she decided, her voice thick with contempt.

"Of course, I've never been that lucky. Maybe you'll die of a broken heart. Oh, that's right, you don't have a heart, do you?" she snarled.

Ward glared at her, his jaw clenched.

"But you know what? The rest of us have a heart, and we're downright revolted at your lack of one!"

Skye paced in front of him, stalking back and forth, before finally seating herself across from him. She pushed a file across the slick surface, propping it in front of Ward.

Flicking the file open, Skye addressed the double-agent in front of her with great disdain.

"This is Agent Leopold Fitz, engineer. Recently he was working to save SHIELD, desperate to prove himself. Now, he is in an intensive care unit, clinging to life."

She turned the page, "This is Agent Jemma Simmons, bio-chemist. She was working with Agent Fitz, and is now at his bedside, monitoring his vitals."

"Mere hours ago, you put them at the bottom of the ocean. Remember that? No, of course not. Why would you? Now, Fitz, my fellow agent, is on the brink of death."

Drawing breath, Skye paused, looking up at Ward.

"Some people are saints, Agent Ward, optimists-they chug along 'till the very end. They refuse to acknowledge evil, looking only for the good. Agents FitzSimmons were, and still are, saints. They denied the accusations until the very end. But now? Now, they are just as convinced as the rest of us: convinced that you no longer care, that you no longer value them."

"But you never did, did you? It was all part of the plan; you had your orders...don't you worry, I got that part loud and clear," she hissed.

When he failed to respond, she glared venomously at him.

"Agent Ward, you should thank your lucky stars that I'm not in charge," she said, slouching against her chair.

He glanced at her.

"You want to know why?" Skye leaned forward, her face inches from his, "Because no matter what excuses you make, or what acts you try to justify, or what villainous pleasures you deny, you are guilty. And you don't give a damn about anyone else."

Grant stared at his lap, his face blank. Skye smirked, rising to her feet. Grabbing the knapsack, she dropped it on the table, startling him from his reverie.

"I'm sure you'll manage to put a band-aid on your own ouchies," she sneered, waltzing out the door.

* * *

**Oh, snap! Please leave a review before I become too terribly bored!**


	2. Just Returning the Favor

Skye rushed out of the Interrogation Room, closing the door securely behind her, and left in search of her team.

"Ready for some Anger-Fu?"

Skye spun around, her surprise evident.

"May, you scared me!" Skye breathed, putting a hand over her heart.

Melinda hummed in reply, a small smile pricking at the corners of her mouth.

"You really want me to do some yoga with you?" the younger agent asked in disbelief.

"It's not yoga-it's Tai-Chi."

"Right. Tai-Chi. Cool. How do we start?" Skye asked, stretching her arms out in front of her.

"Watch and learn."

May took a deep breath in and spread her legs. She reached above her head, drawing her hands back towards her chest, and blew a breath out through her nose.

Skye watched her carefully, copying her movements. She squealed in surprise, though, as her heel slid out from under her, sending her flailing to the floor.

May looked down, startled, but chuckled. Skye now lay flat on her back, her hair curled into knots around her face.

"You have to engage your core, keep your balance," Melinda told her.

Skye hauled herself to her feet, "Got it."

...

Coulson rounded the corner in hopes of speaking with May, but stopped short at the sight in front of him.

Skye stood next to May, her movements just as practiced. He watched as they worked in harmony: both women moving in sync, warding off the same enemy.

He turned around, deciding to return later-it could wait.

...

The next time the Commandeer sought out May, the two had relocated to the loading bay and were throwing punches.

"Use your head, Skye, use distractions."

"Don't let your eyes give you away, either. Focus on your opponent and act accordingly," May grunted, landing a blow on Skye's shoulder.

Skye shot forward, never breaking eye contact with May, brushing the other woman's shoulders with her thumbs before swiping May's legs out from under her.

The rookie grinned, standing above Melinda, panting for breath.

"Well done," May congratulated her, pulling herself up.

"Thanks," Skye said, quietly, "for everything."

"Anytime," May answered, "Just returning the favor."


End file.
